


stormy oceans and cloudy minds

by adorablehowell



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Break Up, M/M, i dont know any MORE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 00:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5846239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorablehowell/pseuds/adorablehowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The seas in Phil’s eyes are entrancingly beautiful to Dan, and he’s mad because he hates everything having to do with the ocean and he hates that Phil has such control over him with every crashing wave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stormy oceans and cloudy minds

**Author's Note:**

> probably one of the works i enjoy jsut bc i was able to get that Aesthetic of writing into this piece and THANKS TO BONITA FOR READING THIS OVER FOR ME she is the Best!!!!!!!! pls enjoy!!!

Dan’s always hated the ocean; the way it’s constantly moving and crashing down on the shore with its destructive cerulean and albicant waves, swallowing grains of sand back into the deep abyss that they retract to. He hates how the cold bites into the peaches painted onto the vulnerability of his skin, seeping into his body through the cracks in his personality that beg for normalcy and comfort. Twisting motions in the water make him feel uneasy, because he’s never liked the idea of the unknown and he’s never liked change that manipulates his very well being to become misaligned under golden stars.

But he became unsure of this hatred when he fell in love with the man with azure eyes.

Phil would always say that maybe blue wasn’t the right color for him, that it was okay that Dan hated oceans so much, but Dan always said that it was worth the risk to stare right at the depths of the deep ocean, if they were in his eyes.

And now, he gazes up to see the unforgiving seas locked in Phil’s eyes - they carry specks of emerald and yellow galaxies that conceal the truth that they both knew they didn’t want to know. Dan’s digging, searching for any sort of emotion that hides behind the shield that Phil guards with swirling storms tinted a deep azure, and that chills Dan to the core because Phil knows how much he hates the sea and he knows that Dan was never able to truly break down the barriers that defined the line between the truths and the lies.

But Phil’s not perfect; he finds apertures etched in the walls he uses to distance Dan from realizing the realities of his emotions, and the ruthless waters begin to seep out of the holes in his exterior, falling from his eyes with the same burning sensation that the cold night brings. Tears only remind Dan that he can’t escape from the oceans that are forever encompassed in Phil’s eyes, and he hates that they’re both not strong enough to break free from the prison of uncertainty that they keep them in.

The daunting ticking of the clock in the background noise pounds against Dan’s ears as he leaves tear stained kisses across the base of Phil’s arm, begging for that same adoration they held before that got lost when Phil started building the very same walls that separated them now. Phil mumbles scattered I’m sorry’s that only bounce off Dan’s ears because they were hollow and unemotional; he’s been nothing but aloof and Dan hates him for it.

Dan’s hair is disheveled with soft tufts of hair pointing in all different directions from tugging and pulling with frustration that aches through his entire body. Usually he’d go mad over such disorder, such lack of symmetry, but the small smile that Phil gives him in consolation is crooked and fake, and that’s all he can see.

Phil wipes at the corners of his eyes, reddened with burning sorrow that’s fiery and unforgiving. Dan tries to make sense of the words that exit Phil’s mouth in apologetic whispers, trying to understand why he was letting this break down and crumble to nothing. He blinks only to see bright stars written on his eyelids because he’s exhausted from trying to keep this together when Phil didn’t even seem to care anymore.

He’s tired of the long nights of screaming that leave him numb and desperate for any sort of feeling. He’s tired of trying when it wasn’t even worth it anymore.

Phil squeezes Dan’s hand in an attempt to soothe him, and Dan wants to be happy that he’s showing any sort of affection, but his hands are cold and uncomforting to the point where it stings as much as freezing water lapping up on the shore onto his bare feet. Dan doesn’t want this because he wants the warmth that Phil held before that he was accustomed to, and this change that Phil’s gone through is everything that he loathes about the constant motion of the waves in the seas.

They never stopped even when he needed them to.

Dan can count the sparse freckles that are dotted across Phil’s cheeks with ease as he runs his fingers across them, trying to connect in his head how this could have gone wrong. His throat is dry and maybe he’s using that as an excuse to not say the words that he dreads hearing come out of his own mouth. It’s difficult to feel the words “good-bye” leave his tongue because he can hear the uncertainty in his voice that held this delusion that somehow he could fix this, when it was broken beyond repair.

Phil’s eyes are sad, and it appears to Dan that the bright yellow stars previously noticeable in them have dulled, allowing the violent waves to overcome them with lovat melancholy. Dan can feel his very own ocean flowing down the apples of his cheeks with such haste, leaving remnants of the harsh waves stained underneath his eyes.

“Please just go.” Dan dislikes the taste of those words, because they’re sour and bitter at the touch, and the aftertaste is bloody as it sits at the back of his throat.

That doesn’t stop Phil from reaching over to leave one last kiss at the top of his forehead, and Dan’s angry. He’s angry because he didn’t fucking mean it because it was all just a facade that he wanted him to believe; he wanted him to believe that somehow raging tsunamis could fix what they destroyed.

Phil rests his hands in his lap before getting up and staring directly into Dan’s eyes. Dan’s quick to look away because he knows what power oceans have to destroy, to swallow him back into the illusion of comfort that Phil once brought him. He doesn’t want to be fooled by the same seas that send piercing pain with their icy touch that claws at his skin with growing urgency.

Dan watches Phil walk out the door, feeling the impact of the door as it slammed shut. The sound echoes through his entire being and his stomach drops at the sudden realization. His breaths are shaky and his hands are weak with tingling sensations running through his veins; he feels as if he’s suffocating even though the one thing that had the ability to drown him was gone.

Suddenly, the idea of oceans doesn’t seem so mental anymore.

~

Everyday is filled with dark grays and dreary clouds. He counts this as the second week from the moment he watched Phil walk out the door and watched him rip away the normalcy that Dan needed in life so much.

He finds himself drowning in seas of tears that he still despises, except these act as horrifying reminders that the only oceans he could have tolerated, were gone. Despite the absolute hatred he holds for Phil and how he stopped being the person that he fell in love with, he can’t pull himself away from the suffocating entrancement of what Phil is.

Every part of him, every ounce of his being misses him. There’s no part of him that doesn’t crave Phil and all that he is, because two weeks in, he’s desperate for that same routine that they kept together - never apart.

Dan never knew that he’d ever feel so broken from losing someone that wasn’t truly gone.

All of body finds holes in his life that were left empty the minute Phil walked out of the door, and at first, it starts off small.

I. His ears

Dan finds it ruining how hard it is to forget something that he once heard on a daily basis.

It wasn’t long after the break up until Dan began to formulate sentences with Phil’s voice at the back of his mind. He can’t seem to shake the way that Phil’s voice sounded in the morning - how it was husky, yet soft, when he murmured it into the back of Dan’s neck with faint kisses left etched on his skin.

His ears miss the high-pitched screams he heard most mornings, usually consisting of Phil nearly breaking more of their bowls - although he was breaking them more often times than not

He doesn’t like the emptiness that a silent flat brings him, because it’s eerie how quiet it gets; it only brings Dan to think more about break up when he’d rather not run over the caustic scars that it left.

No matter what Dan tries to stop dwelling on the silkiness of Phil’s voice, he swears that he hears whispers whenever he sits alone in the flat, watching TV shows that they only ever watched with each other. It almost feels as if his ears are throbbing as he blasts music through headphones so loudly that he wouldn’t be surprised if he was disrupted by angry knocking from the next door neighbors. And even then, Phil’s voice is clawing at his ears with such insistence that no volumes high enough could block it out, and Dan just wants to scream because all he can hear is every single “I love you” that Phil had left ingrained on his mind.

II. His mouth

One of the first things about Phil that made Dan fall in love was the way that he smiled. The manner in which Phil’s lips would curl at the edges, and the endearing way that his teeth sat in his mouth with a slight crookedness.

All he can remember is giggly, lazy afternoons where he would see Phil’s tongue peek out from behind his teeth and he’d smile because he had never met someone whose smile was crooked and small with imperfections, but still managed to elicit such beauty with its presence.

And he would have never thought that he’d get to see that smile leave kisses across the base of his neck every morning with warm giggles.

Dan always compared Phil’s lips to pink roses, because they were soft and velvety against his own, painted so purely on the porcelain of his skin with light shades of coral.

His lips tingle as he runs his finger over the outline of them, remembering the way that Phil’s felt against his own and how now the memory just ignited painful, burning sensations that left singe marks wherever he lay his fingers.

III. His nose

It’s as if his nose has become desensitized to any smells that weren’t reminiscent of Phil.

He can’t stand to be near flowers or even think about them because all it is is a reminder that Phil was always redolent of quiescent meadows of colorful grass.

His nose makes connections to the smallest parts of Phil’s scent - how it was subtlety remnant of detergent with slight hints of flowery cologne. Doing laundry sends pangs down his heart because he thinks of late Sunday mornings spent lugging large baskets of clothing to wash with Phil, who put too much softener in every load because he always countered that it always makes the clothes super soft and warm.

Dan tries not to think about freshly cut grass or minty toothpaste because it’s too much like Phil and he wants to stop feeling so lost whenever he walks on the blossom covered pavement that lead to the streets outside of his flat.

IV. His hands

Dan can see his fragility in his hands with shaking confidence and the lines drawn on them are too broken, too unaligned. They’re paler than usual, with the light pinks flushed away from the palms of his hands from the dread that fills his body with blinding whites.

As he’s wiping away the tears that inevitably fall from his face, he craves the memory of how he would count the sunspots on Phil’s cheeks with his fingertips. He tries not to, but he misses the electrifying sensation whenever they made contact, whenever they touched, that now the remembrance left lightning bolt scars carved on his hands.

He can feel his hands tingling with desire for Phil’s interlocked with them, and it’s pathetic that he wants this to be his reality because it had become his nightmare and Phil shouldn’t have this much power over Dan.

V. His eyes

Dan’s eyes have lost their color, changing from a glowing caramel brown to a dull drab, and they’re tired from carrying the weight of seeing life without Phil. His eyes miss meeting Phil’s at the peak of dawn, when the sun rises to introduce warm colors of saffron mixed with glowing flavescence. The way that Phil would squint his eyes at the brightness of the morning is inscribed on Dan’s mind, because Phil was more luminous that any combination of suns that could even be found in the celestial sphere.

His eyes long for the creases that he found at the corners of Phil’s eyes with every laugh, every smile.

He can’t take away the image of the way Phil’s eyes sparkled every time he let an “I love you” leave his lips, and he was finally starting to think that oceans were something that he could learn to love.

Dan never thought he’d see the day where he would miss the oceans that constantly swirled in Phil’s eyes.

~

Every little detail is permanently engraved on his mind, and he couldn’t escape missing him no matter how much he wanted to. When he tries to fill in the spaces in a desperate attempt to stop missing Phil, more of him breaks down and creates more fissures in his well being. He’s trying to pick up the mess that Phil’s stormy eyes left him in, and in the distance, Dan swears that he can hear the crashing waves taunting him for being so pathetic, so naive. The fact that he even considered diving into the unknown depths of the vast ocean injects itself into his mind and he’s just bombarded by persistent voices yelling stupid, worthless, and pitiful that he can’t ignore because they’re true and the reality washes over him like the same waves that swallowed him into this vortex of hatred.

Dan’s always hated the ocean. It was a fact that he always tried to hide, but now he always says that he hates stormy seas and the color blue because they remind him too much of Phil and the destruction he brought to his innocence with every little crashing wave.

Now he just waits for the day that he’ll actually mean it.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr


End file.
